


Gabriel's Lament

by LadyKnight33



Series: The Nightmare Before [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Canon-Typical Violence, Halloween, Halloween AU, Halloween Skins, Horror, Immortal soldier 76, M/M, Monsters, Pumpkin Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Slasher Soldier: 76 | Jack Morrison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 03:19:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16359725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKnight33/pseuds/LadyKnight33
Summary: The Reaper, feared collector of souls, is bound to the Witch of the Wilds following some unknown bargain that gave his entire being for her disposal. Jack does not know how he ended up in this world of monsters, only that he must return to the mortal realm. Using the Witch's powerful servant as a guide seems like an excellent choice. Gabriel has mixed feelings about the forced excursion.





	Gabriel's Lament

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blacksmiley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacksmiley/gifts).



> Inspired by Blacksmiley's artwork, Gabriel's Lament, inspired in turn by The Nightmare Before Christmas Jack's Lament.

**Gabriel’s Lament**

Another victory. Another soul claimed. The Witch of the Wilds rarely knew defeat. She preferred to claim what was hers and vanish before any self proclaimed heroes came close to victory. This triumphant return was no different. With a new soul enslaved to her, the Witch of the Wilds surveyed the enthusiastic crowd of minions and fiends from her throne. The foolish Junkenstein nervously eyed his new neighbors from the shadow of his bloated green monster.

The Reaper stood silently beside the Witch. Her command was simple. So long as she required his presence, he would obey. It was the curse lain upon him so long ago. He ceased knowing the original reason for selling his soul to this master of witchcraft. It no longer mattered. He was hers to command with no hope of breaking free. And his reward for such loyal servitude? The meaningless title of ‘The Pumpkin King’ alluding to the garish jack’o’lantern he used to disguise the ghostly manifestation of his missing head.

Regardless of curse or command, there was no denying that he was the absolute best mercenary the Witch of the Wilds could ever claim. The title and empty mansion proclaimed her admiration for the Reaper’s abilities. Few would ever question the position he had at the Witch’s right hand. But when she vanished into the Wild Woods, leaving a township of monsters to their own devices, the Reaper dared to remember one thing from his past.

His name.

Little else remained. However the memory of being named ‘Gabriel’ called to him when not directly in the Witch’s presence. And within that name came a distant longing. He could not identify the reasons or the desire. Only a sense of want. Gabriel had grown so tired of the same routines. Answering when the Witch summoned him. Doing what vicious deeds she demanded of him. Receiving hollow acclaim from all those who adored her.

That longing had intensified over the unknown millennia. And alone within the deteriorating walls of his empty mansion, Gabriel could remove the Pumpkin Helm and try to reform into the man he had once been. Each excursion into the mortal realm reminded him that there was more out there than this hole of hell. No matter how rightly he may belong here, Gabriel longed for that unknown. 

His false freedom was short lived. Sharp agony ripped through his chest and yanked at where his heart used to be. The Witch of the Wilds called. Reaper collected his Pumpkin Helm and vanished from the protective walls of his cavernous mansion. Reappearing by her side relieved the pain. With his ghostly head but a memory, Reaper replaced his helm and waited for instructions. The Witch sat at a grand table with her ally and occasional foe taking a seat across from her. The Banshee had even greater dubious intentions towards the mortal realm. Not even the monsters were safe from her inquisitive eye.

“Why have I come here, Moira?” The Witch had a cold edge to her voice. She did not enjoy being surprised. 

“After your little encounter at the castle, you left something interesting behind. So as usual, I went to clean up behind you.” The Banshee motioned to the side doors. Ghouls in various stages of decay did a remarkable job of not gnawing on the corpse they carried. The man was older. White hair rather than the color from youth. Yet he was strapping more akin to a young man. The contradiction dropped upon the wide table stirred his recollection of the night rescuing the foolish Junkenstein. This human had been there. Reaper recalled shooting him repeatedly. The same human Reaper had encountered several times before. Had the man finally succumbed to his wounds?

The Witch of the Wild arched an eyebrow as she studied the new addition to the meeting. The ghouls shuffled back to their graveyards without acknowledgement. “So one of them died. Why bring him here?”

“Because I have a little theory I wish to test.” The Banshee’s hand shot out towards him with a dark gaseous tendril leading the way. The life force drained from him. Slow and painful. Reaper clutched his chest as though to keep the vital energy within this vessel. The Witch only watched impassively as her servant crumpled to his knees, weak now that the Banshee stole the very thing keeping him on this earth. “Really, Angela. You do not have to look at me as if I killed your pet. He’ll gain it back by the time you need him again.”

“I would prefer not to use my magic unless necessary.”

The Banshee swirled her hands together until the dark tendril transformed into a faded gold. This creature used the life of others to imbue a semblance of it into the dead and wounded. But she could not create life. She could only steal it. And she stole it from him, from the Witch. Reaper struggled to his feet, ignored by the powerful sorcerers at the table. He watched the faded yellow ooze trickle into the gaping mouth of the fresh corpse. As the solid magic was absorbed into the flesh, the pallor faded into an unnatural white. The eye sockets sunk further rapidly displaying the decaying process and yet preserving the flesh for all eternity. 

The Reaper was witnessing the creation of a new type of creature. Not a mere zombie. He could feel the vitality from a body barely hours dead. This would be an immortal. 

The Witch of the Wilds pushed back from the table annoyance building on her delicate facial structure. “If you only intended to steal from me, then I will be on my way.” Reaper trailed behind her. The thought of the new being forming on that table lingering in his mind. He wondered what that creature would become when using a life force that had been housed within his soul. 

He would not get a chance to see the fruition of the Banshee’s experiment. The Witch of the Wilds waved him away. It was not unusual for him to be called for such minor visits of powerful entities. He had not had his essence stolen in this way before. Any more and he might cease to exist. That would have been different. It might have even ended the repetition. 

Once again within the high walls and empty halls of the trophy mansion, Gabriel wandered the familiar blank enclosure. It was easily a tomb as a home. Slowly he felt the magic holding him together return to him as the Banshee had explained. Nothing new. Nothing surprising. Nothing to fulfill his longing for something new. 

Endless nights continued. 

Walking among the skeleton garden of thorn laden bushes and brambles, Gabriel heard a commotion on the streets. Investigating from the iron gate, he saw the denizens of the township calling for a being simply known as Jack. However he had never heard of anyone by that name. The minions and fiends filling the streets passed by. No one dared interrupt the self imposed solitude of the Reaper. Turning away from the chaotic scene, Gabriel saw a flash of white duck behind a broken granite statue. 

Letting his physical form vanish into black smoke, Gabriel disappeared into the shadows. Shifting with the darkness, he found something new. Stark white skin glowed in the gloom. The form was cloaked thick blood red leather. He had seen this man before. A corpse lain out on a table as the essence of life infused into every cell. Reaper had not seen the moment breath returned to that dead body, but here the immortal hid from those keen eyes searching for him. Because this could only be the Jack faint calls from the street sought. 

Re-materializing with unearthly shotguns aimed for the new immortal’s head. He should call out and announce the interloper’s presence. Yet the stranger turned to him and with hollowed skull-like face. No fear. But also no emotion. “Well?” The question startled Reaper. It was an invitation to shoot. To kill. A demand to end the creature’s existence. “What are you waiting for?”

Most beings struggled to continue their conscious life. Gabriel knew that was why he still existed. Not as a mindless Reaper, but with his ghostly figure from a time before his death. His shotgun disappeared into the midnight around them. “Who… what are you?”

“Beats me.” The unearthly white walking corpse stood and brushed dirt from his leather clothing. “You’re from around here. Why don’t you tell me? Or better yet, tell me why you aren’t calling out to that mob that I’m here. Actually… Why isn’t anyone coming here to search?” 

“Because no one dares intrude.” Gabriel studied this interruption with a new intensity. “How did you get in?”

“Really? They must stay out only because you inspire fear. Your gates are not locked.” This immortal, this Jack, casually strolled through the barren garden and into the building itself. Gabriel’s sanctuary. A place where no one ever entered. Not even the Witch. The impudent intruder ignored all long standing reverence. Gabriel hastily followed, not knowing what to do with this disturbance to his isolation. 

“Do you not know who I am?” He demanded, flaring in annoyance. 

“Should I?” Jack raised an eyebrow as he eyed cobweb ornamented walls. The strange immortal returned to his inspection of Gabriel’s private place. No one had ever entered this place. The fear of retribution kept all lower fiends away.

The Reaper surged within him. Shoulders squared, Gabriel confronted this disturbance. This change to his dull routine irritated him. He could not recognize the newness as satisfying his longing. He wanted this being removed and yet he could not bring himself to call on the rabble out on the streets. “I am the Reaper, harbinger of death. Collector of souls.”

Jack interrupted the list of titles. “Great. Then you can tell me how to get out of here.”

Gabriel was stopped short. How was he supposed to respond to that flippant carelessness. “Out of where?”

“This place. I don’t know what it is called. I escaped that crazy gray banshee and now I’m a bit lost. But I need to get back.” The bleached bone skin caught the flickering candlelight turning it ghastly yellow. With the sunken eyes glowing a beady red, the immortal appeared more akin to the average zombie. 

“Back where?” Gabriel paused to wonder why he indulged in this questioning. He had never had a guest here and was now partaking in a bizarre conversation with an intruder. Yet he couldn’t will himself to stop. His curiosity was engaged. “Not to the Banshee?”

“Not there. You think I’m insane?” Jack rolled his eyes ducking into another sitting room. Taking himself on a tour of this mansion. “Guess I don’t know where I’m going. Just a need to get back. To wherever I was before the banshee.”

“You don’t remember how you got in the Banshee’s lair?”

“Nope.”

“Right…” Gabriel pinched the bridge of his insubstantial nose. “You do realize your are dead.”

“I’m not dead.”

“And you’re not currently talking to a ghost.” That got the strange immortal to turn around and actually study Gabriel. Behind that blank visage thoughts were turning. Puzzle pieces starting to fall into place. This brought Jack to a standstill. Though Gabriel could not fully see the creature’s face, he could feel the discord rolling deep within that body. He did not have long to savor the confusion dawning on that face. A familiar agony tore through his chest. Immediately his ghostly head vanished, hiding his grimace and to make way for the Pumpkin Helm. His disembodied voice echoed through halls. “You will remain here. Hidden.”

The headless body did nothing to shock the immortal. “Who do you think you are telling me what to do?”

“The one keeping you concealed from the those hunting you.” The Reaper summoned his Pumpkin Helm into his hand and vanished from his sanctuary. 

Reappearing beside the Witch of the Wilds. Her lair was quant. Quite unlike the ostentatious castle of the Banshee. One would almost think it cozy until noticing the decorations included shrunken heads and jars filled with various body parts. “It appears Moira has lost something of hers. And rumor has it that the werewolves scented a trail leading into your estate.” The Witch focused her attention on a silver cauldron over a green fire. “You haven’t seen anything unusual?”

“No.” The Reaper had never actually lied to the Witch before. And the question did offer significant leeway for answering. Did she know? It was possible. However she did not glance in his direction. And she didn’t correct him nor reprimand him.

“Pity. Well, when you do I expect you to inform me immediately. I would very much like to get my hands on this new creation of hers.” The Witch waved her hand to dismiss him. He exited the cottage in the Wild Woods. Though he teleported to her side constantly, she disliked it when he teleported from her lair. Ever respectful to her demands, the Reaper wandered the wilderness surrounding the cottage. It gave him time to ponder what he would do.

It would be very easy to turn around and reveal the presence of the immortal within his estate. He could just as easily drag the man to the streets and announce that the creature had been found. No questions asked. No lying to the Witch. Yet neither of those respectable options enticed him. Something different had found him. And his curiosity had been tapped. How did this being not realize it was a monster like the rest of this realm. Or more intriguing still was how had the creature escape from the Banshee. Did he not have magic binding him to the sorcerer who created him? Was the Banshee capable of such magic?

When he finally returned to the mansion, the stark white immortal swathed in crimson was nowhere to be found. Had he used Reaper’s absence to escape? Not finding this Jack immediately, Gabriel fanned out in thin tendrils of black smoke to search every room. He did not expect to find Jack in the cellar. Gabriel watched perplexed at how this creature had made its way into the bowels of the Reaper’s sanctuary. The creature’s back was to the ghostly owner while the immortal zombie eyed shelf after shelf of various guns. “You got a great arsenal down here. Do you take the weapons of those you kill as trophies?” Jack suddenly started talking. Even though Gabriel was a blur of shadow, this being knew he was present. How? 

Gabriel solidified enraged at the breach of his privacy. “I told you to stay hidden. Not to trespass through the halls of my home.”

“You call this a home? Even the enchanted mirror says all you do is moan about how lonely it is.” That emotionless face almost cracked a smile. “Besides, what’s better concealed than hiding out in a basement.”

“Wine cellar.”

“Really? That’s what you’re going for. Just call it what it is and be done with it.” Jack turned around with a large rifle in his hands. “It’s a dungeon. And I’m keeping this one.” Jack hefted the gun as an indicator, aiming for Gabriel’s ghostly visage. “Was it the one to take your head off?”

“You are not keeping anything.” Gabriel roughly grabbed the muzzle of the rifle and pulled. Only to find the immovable grasp of stone. Reminded again that this was no mere zombie. 

“Oh I think I am.” Jack narrowed those sunken red eyes. Rocket fire slammed into Gabriel’s side with a fiery intensity he had not felt since the last time that powerful ammunition tried to destroy him. Ghostly head flickering, Gabriel gaped at the monster’s audacity. “And I’ve come to some conclusions while you were out. First and foremost is that this mansion is surrounded by creatures ready to turn me into that banshee or this witch you mentioned. I can’t have that. I need to get out. So you’re going to help.”

“I will do no such thing,” Gabriel growled, dissolving into smoke only to reform behind the monster. His own shotgun echoing in the subterranean chamber. The blast sent the immortal sprawling across the paving stones. That death grip remained on the rifle. “I should take you the Witch.”

“You should. So? Why aren’t you?” Jack pushed himself up from the floor. Again Gabriel could not understand this creature. It wanted to leave but it kept inviting capture or death. The spread of shotgun pellets across the red jacket started to heal before his very eyes as the immortal rose to its feet. Only rare creatures had healing abilities. Jack’s expressionless face locked onto Gabriel’s ghostly visage. He lifted the rifle level with Gabriel’s head. “Well? Didn’t work, did it. Now what are you going to try, Reaper?” Jack stepped closer, determination glowing within those red eyes. “So let’s try this again. I need to get out and I need you to get me past this town.”

Even with two enchanted shotguns aimed for that stark white mask of a face, Jack did not hesitate to push closer. Gabriel could not move, rooted to the flagstones. It was no spell. No magic had this power over him. This was fascination. He stood in the presence of a new kind of immortal. A free spirit. No being could contain this monster. Gabriel was a fool to try. Powerful and feared, Reaper was still only a cursed being. His lot in this horrific magical world was to obey. He had long since forgotten why he sold his soul to the Witch of the Wilds. Or why he was bound to her will in the first place. All he remembered from the time before was his name. And from the moment his afterlife was taken by the Witch, Gabriel had no choice in anything.

Not even now. 

He stood stock still facing the muzzle of a rifle. Neither able to pull the trigger nor retreat.

“How many more shots will it take? You won’t be much used to me incapacitated.” The resolve behind those blood red eyes meant Jack would not back down. He would either take Gabriel out and forge his own way through the town or use the Reaper as a shield for escape. Neither option was appealing. Gabriel could heal but not nearly as fast as this creature. It seemed the man was not finished. “I have a suggestion. You put away your guns and we go up to one of those sitting rooms to talk.”

“The rifle?” Gabriel swallowed his pride. A lesson he had learned eons ago. And despised every time.

“Oh, this? I told you. I’m keeping it.” Jack tilted his head. Sunken eyes boring holes through Gabriel’s ghost. “But I suppose if you’re going to talk, I can put it to the side.” The standoff continued until Jack’s finger pressed against the trigger. Proving he would not stall much longer. Gabriel let his shotguns vanish into billowing black smoke. “Glad we’re in agreement.”

Humiliation coursed through his empty veins. Gabriel led the way to a small study where no one would notice the extra shadows bouncing off the curtains. Taking seats across from each other, the two inhuman creations attempted civil conversation. “Where exactly do you need to go?” Jack had remained in the mansion instead of escaping, yet leaving was the only thing Gabriel knew about the immortal’s plan. He was only entertaining this conversation until he could figure out how the creature escaped the Banshee. That was the most important information the Witch would want. 

“Out of here. I just know that I need to get back. Like there is something or someone I left behind.”

“This is hell, Jack. Home to every monster that ever existed. And you’re one of them. You can’t go back. Not without a lot of power. The Witch only goes for certain opportunities. You’re stuck here.”

“How does she leave this place?”

Gabriel sighed as the immortal refused to listen to reason. “I don’t know. I simply follow her.”

“So you’re just a trained dog on a leash. But you still know where she leaves this place.” Jack stood, rifle on his shoulder. “What are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

Gabriel pinched the bridge of his insubstantial nose. The insult stung even if it was the truth. “It’s not that simple. I cannot leave except when the Witch calls. Not to mention the minions that inhabit this village will horde against you the moment you step foot outside these walls.”

“Your garden boarders the edge of town. The villagers won’t see anything.”

“Then why haven’t you escaped?”

“Because, I’ve ran through that forest for I don’t know how long. And I keep returning to this town. It doesn’t make sense. I run in a straight line and show up on the other side of the town. There is no logic here.” 

“Jack. What do you understand of magic?”

“Next to nothing I suppose.”

“Then there you go.” Gabriel starting pacing. He had been around enchantments long enough to understand the basics. “It is not logical. No wonder you need help. You were practically born yesterday.” The immortal’s face furrowed either in frustration or anger, Gabriel didn’t care which. “Time is different here. It was not that long ago that the Banshee revived you with the life giving magic of the Witch.”

“I’ve been on the run for months.”

Gabriel shrugged. Trying to explain to this creature that time was not linear here seemed pointless. So he did not argue the subjective statement. “And you got nowhere. The question is how did you escape the Banshee?”

This time Jack turned away. “I don’t know. I woke up. That banshee standing over me. She was studying something. When she left, I found a window and dropped out. Surprised the fall didn’t kill me.”

“You’re already dead.”

“I get that.” The immortal’s scowl deepened. “I’ve been running ever since. And since I can’t get out, I need someone who knows how.”

“I told you that I do not know how. I am bound to the Witch. I go where she goes.”

“And I’m saying that if you’ve seen it once, then you can show me.”

“I can’t leave.”

Jack turned those sunken red eyes to him. The deadpan stare glaring straight through the ghostly interpretation of a face. “They’re just walls. Surely a smoke spirit like you can get through walls.”

“I don’t think you understand.” Gabriel closed his eyes at the mounting annoyance. Trying to explain this world to a fresh corpse was frustrating. 

“No, I probably don’t.” The man started pacing the small room. “But we’re wasting time.”

“What is so important that you have to go back?”

Jack stopped. Rifle hanging loose in his hands. “I don’t know. But I know I must return. Something unfinished.” The stark white immortal straightened. “We’re done talking.” Jack abruptly turned away. Leaving the study entirely. Gabriel watched perplexed by this free immortal. So driven by an unknown need that it cared little for the laws of magic. Yet when the unusual zombie returned with Gabriel’s Pumpkin Helm in hand, the Reaper scowled, furious at how carelessly Jack hung onto the stem. 

“How did you get that!” He kept it safe. He knew he did. There was no way the walking corpse could have retrieved it. He sprung towards the creature intent on reclaiming the magical headwear.

Jack shrugged, easily keeping it from the Reaper’s grasp. “Were those glass plates supposed to be warded or something? Never had an issue with that kind of magic before. Now, get your ghostly ass in gear and let’s go.” The immortal abruptly turned for the garden door, taking the Helm with him. 

Gabriel caught up to him within the garden. Somehow this being was able to ignore the protections placed upon the display case. Created by the very Witch who held Gabriel’s soul captive. “I am not going anywhere. Return that. You have more than enough to escape as you are.”

Glancing between the Pumpkin Helm and the rifle, Jack appeared to be considering the options. Then the stark white immortal pressed the barrel of the rifle against Gabriel’s chest and growl. “Keep moving or I shoot you.” Gabriel scowled and stood his ground. He was not going to obey this creature simply because it was powerful. That was not how his curse worked. Still something within this immortal’s voice demanded obedience. And it rang through his soul as deeply as the Witch’s commands. Did all free spirits contain this power?

The rifle dug into his chest. Jack could not shoot. Not without gaining the attention of the denizens of the town. On the edge of forest though they maybe, Gabriel’s mansion was still too close for such a violent means of persuasion. “I cannot. Unlike you, I and most of the creatures in this realm are bound to a more powerful being. I am stuck here.”

Frowning at the Pumpkin Helm in one hand and the rifle in the other, the immortal seemed to realize that his options were limited. “Last chance, Reaper.” Stubbornly Gabriel refused to move. Without warning the stark white zombie threw the Pumpkin Helm high into the air. It sailed over the garden wall and into the unkempt pasture beyond. Without hesitation Reaper flew as a massive cloud of black smoke to catch the Helm. He did not fully understand the reason why this headwear was important. Only that it was required by the Witch. “Next time, don’t lie to me.” Jack’s glowing red eyes glared in judgement. The animated corpse prodded Gabriel with the rifle again. “Get moving.”

“She knows I’ve left the estate.” Gabriel’s eyes darted back to the garden wall that marked the boundary of his cage.

“How is that my problem?”

“I do not leave per our agreement unless summoned by her or sent by her. And She knows you went inside the mansion.”

“Then what are we waiting for. Move.”

“If I’ve left the she knows something is wrong.”

“And you still haven’t hightailed it back to her. Why?” Jack leaned forward, the muzzle of the broad rifle cutting through the leather coat Gabriel chose to wear. “Is it because the Reaper is afraid?”

“I do not know fear. Only obedience.” Gabriel growled, dismissing the ghostly head. He placed the Pumpkin Helm upon his shoulders instead. It served well to disguise his emotions.

“Oh, I think you do. After all I have already escaped the Banshee. Eluded thousands of monsters hunting me down. Taken you hostage. And you can’t kill me. Now. No more stalling. Get your ghostly ass in gear and get us out of range of those werewolves. I am not running from them all night.”

“What do you expect me to do? There is nowhere that is beyond the range of a werewolf.”

“And scent doesn’t stay for long if the body doesn’t touch the ground.”

Gabriel growled in frustration. “I am insubstantial.”

“But with your smoke disrupting the trail I’d make, it’d be like trying to see through fog, but for a werewolf’s nose. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“But you did die three days ago.”

“Irrelevant. Keep moving.” Jack’s stolen rifle jabbed into Gabriel’s shoulder. He would call it painful if he did not have other experiences of harsher punishment. In an undulating black fog, Gabriel disguised the zombie’s trek to the forest. 

He did not do this out of fear. So long as he remained with the errant zombie, the Witch would be able to track them down. Which was why he had not gone to her again. Or so he told himself. Finding the Witch without a summons was difficult. He had to guess at where she would be. It was easier to wait until she called him. Then he could follow that magic directly to her. Should he leave this immortal alone again, who knew what sort of trouble it would cause. The first time allowed it to steal one of the most powerful weapons to exist designed for destroying the undead. Gabriel didn’t collect just any weapon. He took the ones that posed the most danger to himself and the witch. Now it was in the hands of a creature who behaved more like a mortal than a monster. 

Yet there was that fascination. The being he currently shrouded in thick black smoke was undeniably powerful. Nor did it seem to realize its strength. The more he could learn about this strange immortal, the better chance the Witch had of properly containing it. Gabriel constantly found himself marveling at how determined Jack was. The man knew next to nothing about the world he was traveling in, yet he pushed through with relative ease. If nothing else, it was impressive.

They were deep beyond the tree line when Jack called a halt. His brow knitted in confusion. “What…?” The man pushed aside the blood red jacket and clenched at his chest. Gabriel was just reforming when the torment of the summons ripped through his chest. Helm in place, no one could see his scowl of pain. As he started to phase to the Witch’s location a rough hand gripped his coat. “What do you think you’re doing?” That fist stopped the teleportation. Something he had always assumed impossible.

“The Witch is summoning me.” Reaper growled menacingly. Pain fueled his rage. A deep burn building within his chest. The longer he went without answering the worse it became. Until the butt of the rifle blinded him with white hot pain shattering through his head. He was flat on his back before he comprehended the strike. Gabriel’s ghostly face stared up at the immortal. Fear clearly etched upon his visage. There was no way anyone could have knocked the Helm from his shoulders. Or hold him in place with the summons coursing through his veins.

“You’re not going anywhere.” Jack’s knee dug into Gabriel’s chest, competing with the fire raging within. It threatened to consume him. Unable to answer the call beating down his ribs and burning his core, Gabriel tried to contain the misery. He had not refused a summons since becoming the Reaper. The memory of the agony to come enough to ensure his prompt response. Dismissing the ghost was the only means to hide the anguish. Intense hell fires burned with a vengeance. His body struggled to free itself from the anchor pinning him to the ground. He was left writhing. Shrieking in an unearthly scream. He was being burned alive. And the bastard corpse refused to let him go. Impassively watching as the internal torture pulled the Reaper apart.

When he finally became conscious of the world beyond the lingering ache within his soul, Gabriel saw the hated immortal using the Pumpkin Helm as his own personal stool. His glower deepened, broken only by the wince at the lingering ache as he gained his feet. Did the corpse have no sense of reverence? Clearly he did not understand the importance of this Helm. He opened his mouth to protest the use of his personal property as furniture when the stark white zombie interrupted.

“Is it always like that?” The blank sunken red eyes did not glance up from the rifle. Yet the gravelly voice betrayed an exhaustion only decades worth of witnessing horror could achieve.

“Every single time.” Gabriel grounded out. He set his jaw, determined not to show any further weakness. Though after that display, how much left could he hide?

“Can she find you?”

“Yes. Though it is more difficult. She will summon again.” Gabriel straightened his coat, trying to find some remains of dignity. “How did you block it?”

Jack shrugged. “Just refused to let the magic take hold. Come on. We can’t stay here.” On standing the immortal shouldered the Helm as a backpack and used the rifle to point the way.

“Give that back.” Gabriel reached for the Helm, only for Jack to press that rifle into his chest. 

“No. This stays with me until you show me how to get out of this place.”

“I’ve told you. I do not know how. I only follow the Witch into the mortal realm.”

“But if you follow, you know where the exit is. Now get moving.” The hard glowing eyes narrowed. The hand on the trigger tensed. They were far enough away that the rocket fire would not attract attention. Gabriel was doomed to lead this creature through the Wild Woods until something looked familiar. Jack marched him along at gunpoint. Though if Gabriel did not know where to go, it would not be too difficult to travel in circles until the Witch appeared. But that would be several summons later. 

Deep into the forest the third summons took him. The monster immortal held him in place again. Blocking the instinctive pull, the need to relieve the suffering and answer the call. It was the longest call yet. The Witch would find them soon. When it was finally over he sagged against the nearest tree and sank to the ground. He did not know how much longer he could tolerate this. His soul would be shredded into a million pieces and he would be useless to anyone. He desperately wanted to sleep. Even to die. Anything was better than this humiliation in purgatory. 

Again Jack used the Pumpkin Helm as a stool, sitting across from Gabriel and looking far to comfortable leaning back on a tree trunk. Gabriel only managed a tired glare. It had been the same all other times. Gabriel collapsed and the zombie waited for as long as he felt necessary. Never long enough. Gabriel could not heal as fast. Not without absorbing life energy while in combat. That was his existence. Wait until needed for combat. His only purpose in this world. It was no wonder he was lost to misery within the walls of his mansion.

“Hey,” Jack called from the other side of the small break in the trees. Gabriel only rolled his eyes and turned away. “Do you got a name? Reaper sounds more like a title. Something the Witch shoved onto you to make you less human. You were human once. Right?” Gabriel closed his eyes. He did not want to talk to this creature. He was being held against his will with no energy to fight back. This was not how he saw this encounter ending. “Look. I don’t know what it is, but you cannot say you didn’t walk into this mess. You had ample opportunity to bring the Witch or even the Banshee back to hunt me down. Yet you didn’t. Now I’m not going to apologize for keeping you here; but if you disappear on me, I loose any chance of getting back. Surely there is something you want bad enough to fight against the Witch.”

Gabriel sighed. Apparently the white zombie was not going to stop. “Anything I may have wanted died when I bargained with the Witch. I do not remember any of it.”

“Why did you give your soul to the Witch?”

“I don’t remember!” He snapped. The pang of loss filled the ache within his chest. There had been something but he long ago gave it up.

“Alright. But do you have a name? Even the vampires and werewolves have names.” Jack waited. Gabriel refused to give in. It was the one thing he had for himself. He would not give his name to this monster. Suddenly a stone soared through his eye. Another followed this time through his cheek. Glaring dangerously at the corpse, Gabriel dared the man to continue. Jack’s expression was unreadable. Yet he picked up more stones and sent them flying through the ghostly head. 

“Stop.”

“Does you no harm.”

“It’s degrading.” More stones followed. There was almost a spark of amusement within those sunken eyes. “Cease this immediately.”

“Your name?” Jack arched an eyebrow expectantly. Gabriel could only growl in frustration. He had no counter to this. No strength to physically stop the immortal. His weapons were useless against the being. The stones continued to add insult to his situation.

Sagging his shoulders, the Reaper accepted defeat. The zombie would not cease this chatter unless it received answers. “Gabriel.”

“Gabriel. Good name.” Jack shifted. His fingers ran along the broad muzzle of the rifle. Silence returned to the woods. With the answers it sought, the immortal ended his questions. 

This time he did not push Gabriel to march. Almost content to wait until the Reaper demonstrated he was ready. It made him uneasy. Still he took the offered rest. Jack remained seated on the Helm studying the rifle. Gabriel was tempted to wait until the minions of the Witch finally arrived. But to the Witch’s knowledge the Reaper had disobeyed her summons three times. Punishment for that would be severe. Though trying to imagine anything worse than the torment of the refused summons sent chills through his spine. Perhaps he would finally face oblivion. To not be returned to this world would be a blessing.

He stood and dusted off his coat. It was not enough time for him to be fully recovered, but they had remained stationary for too long. Jack was frowning at him questioningly. “We need to be moving on.” Gabriel offered as an explanation. Without looking back he strode through the densely packed trees.

“Do you even know where you are going?” Jack asked upon catching up. 

Rolling his eyes at the absurd question, Gabriel reiterated for the immortal’s benefit. “I’ve told you many times that I have only followed the Witch to the mortal realm. I’ve never once implied that I could lead you there. And yet you insisted on forcing me on this march. Why bother asking that now?” Blessed silence. Jack marched beside him, an animated corpse with a purpose. Gabriel might not know exactly where the exit from this nightmarish world was, only vague sensations and disjointed memories. It’s not like he paid attention in the past. Believing his curse was the end to his existence. 

But now he was out of the mansion without the Witch. A feat he had never dreamed possible. All because of the stark white monster, created from the dead body of one of those heroes. His life had been disrupted. If he was going to be punished for this excursion, then the least he could do was try to find escape for this free immortal. It would all end the same way for him. Cursed soul forever bound to the Witch.

He paused as a change settled in the air. “Werewolves.” His eyes narrowed into the darkness. It was too much to ask for this trek to continue without interruption.

“I thought we left them behind.”

“These belong to the Banshee. She would have ways to track you not available to the Witch.”

“Gabe! Behind you!” Gabriel saw the rifle aim for his head a second before he ducked. Rocket fire singed the smoke trail left behind. The explosion into the hairy beast leaping towards his back nocked him into dirt. “I thought werewolves followed the moon.”

“Get a clue. The moon is always full.” Gabriel pushed himself off the ground, scowling despite the glimmer of delight flickering through his eyes. A fight was just what he needed. “And don’t you dare call me Gabe again.” Black smoke formed into his unearthly shotguns. “Another coming on your right. Try not to shoot me this time.” Gabriel disappeared into the night. What did he have to lose by helping this creature? Strangely enough with the zombie as company, he felt freer than he at anytime under the Witch’s curse. Despite this forced excursion and the intermittent agony. 

Reappearing beside the wolf and with its attention taken by Jack’s blinding white form within this eternal darkness, the Reaper started firing. Amidst the hail of hellfire bullets the massive wolf struggled to reach its prey. It was pathetic. Thinking these beasts could overcome an immortal and a ghost. The Reaper held his gun to the head of the remaining breathing creature and fired. The life force flowed into him. Restoring his fortitude. Perhaps now he would be able to take on the zombie. Except for the one fact that his bullets did very little damage in the face of the immortal’s healing.

“The Banshee knows where you are now. It is only a matter of time.” The Reaper glanced back to the strange creature that started this hunt. He was out of reach. Now was the perfect time to flee. But part of him did not want to see this free spirit become enslaved like all the rest in this world. Its power and its determination fascinated Gabriel. Ignited a long repressed desire for freedom.

“How much further?”

Gabriel shook his head. “I do not know. This is a land of endless night. An eternal full moon. What you are looking for bridges twilight and dawn. Within the darkest shadows will be the light. That is all I know about the path to the mortal realm.”

“Then that will have to do.” With a practiced motion the zombie shouldered the rifle, behaving as through the useless directions actually meant something. But here the points of a compass did not work so alternative means were necessary. Gabriel only knew his way based on instinct and faint memory of traveling to that point. 

The Reaper was about to dismiss his weapons when the atmosphere changed again. It grew denser with all the magic imbued into the creeping fog. The werewolves were only the vanguard. More minions were on their way. Jack stood oblivious to the changes. Likely not realizing the importance of the thickening air. If he could even sense it. “Give me my Helm.” Gabriel glared daggers at the animated corpse when it backed away, refusing. “These mangy mutts are not alone. If you expect me to survive for any length of time, then I need the Helm.” That was only part of the reason, but it was all the immortal needed to know. Jack still hesitated, but the fleeting trust from their brief battle with the werewolves won. The Pumpkin Helm flew through the air. Gabriel immediately placed it upon his shoulders, letting its power surge through him. It belonged to the Witch, but it was his to use in combat. 

At first it was a trickle. The faster ghouls and flying goblins. But soon it became a torrent. Monstrosities even this realm had no name for. Creations of the Banshee and her stolen souls. Jack stood his ground. Gabriel wove between the horde, taking out the weak and distracted. It was carnage and he reveled in it. These pitiful minions absorbed into him, providing fuel for his never ending assault. The immortal however had limited ammunition bathed in holy blessings in order to wound the undead. Those bullets would soon cease. And the only source was the cache within Reaper’s mansion or back in the mortal realm where priests could create more. Either way Jack needed to retreat. Yet he only maneuvered to gain better ground against the onslaught. 

Distracted by the tide of minions trying to kill them, Gabriel did not notice the building fury within his chest until the summons ripped through his existence. An unearthly howl of agony startled the battlefield. Gabriel staggered and tried to compose himself. He needed to continue fighting. Or answer the summons. Jack was not here to force him to remain. A swath of gremlins separated them. If it had not been for the previous times shackled in place by that stark white hand blocking the magic, Gabriel would have answered the summons immediately. This time he knew he could withstand it. It would not be pleasant. He would suffer for his choice. But Reaper found his footing and glared at the zombie. “Run.”

It was the only warning he managed. Jack’s blank expression did nothing to show he understood the necessity. Only that he cradled the rifle, turned tail and ran. Gabriel blurred into motion to cover the immortal’s retreat. Even his healing in the midst of combat could not keep up with the endless waves of monsters descending onto this point. Jack had run from these beings before. He just needed a head start. Gabriel fought until nothingness took him. 

His next conscious thought came as he gazed upon the blonde Witch who owned his soul. If he had any remaining freedom, it vanished under those icy blue eyes. “Four times you denied the summons. I want to know how.”

“The Banshee’s newest creation. The one everyone is searching for. It is capable of disrupting the summons.” The words vomited forth. The Reaper had never left the Witch’s side. Its time as the zombie’s hostage a vague memory when faced with the overwhelming power before him.

“Moira.” The Witch spat the name in hatred. “Come. We’re going to pay her a visit.” Reaper had no choice but to follow her through the portal into the the Banshee’s castle. 

The thin tall gray woman met them immediately. She crossed the massive flagstones with a tight smile on her lips. The Banshee did not expect nor want company. “Ah, Angela, to what do I owe this surprise.”

“That corpse you restored. What did you create?”

“Another zombie.”

“Zombies do not run away. Do not fight their creator. And do not have the power to stop my magic. So, what exactly did you create.” The Witch demanded. The height difference mattered little when the Witch drew upon her vast power to overwhelm those present. The Banshee appeared unimpressed. She had her own reservoir of magic.

“Fascinating. You must tell me exactly what he has done.”

“Apparently he is capable of halting the summons. Nothing can stop that.”

“Interesting. I wonder if it has anything to do with the source of life used. Though honestly, how certain are you that the zombie stopped the summons? I’ve heard rumors from my little ghouls that your Reaper ignored your summons while fighting along side that zombie. Perhaps you should investigate the actual cause.” The Banshee peered deeply into the Pumpkin Helm searching the Reaper’s soul for a reaction. 

“I will take proper actions later. For now I need to know what is running through the Wild Woods right now.”

“No idea. It is a new creation. I found an interesting spark within that body and wondered what it would become with new life fueling it. The Spirit within was far older than the body it inhabited. And it tasted of your interference. Perhaps you know something I do not.”

“Without seeing it I will not know.” The Witch glared at the Banshee. “Now we’re forced to hunt down this zombie. Where is he?”

“He was at the edge of the Wild Wood, near the Feral Fen. I must say, given his location I can only think he wants to escape. Isn’t that where you travel to the mortal realm? Aldersbrunn seems to be a favorite of yours. And who else knows where that portal is?” Reaper stood silent under the Banshee’s scrutiny. 

“I don’t need you to make accusations. I am well aware that my commands are being thwarted. But it all began with you not containing your creation.” The Witched turned abruptly. “When I find your zombie, I will not return it to you.” The Witch vanished from the castle, dragging Reaper with her. Not as agonizing as the summons, but having his soul gripped by magical claws stole the remnants of resilience gain from reviving. “Now where is he?” They stood amid the pile of dead ghouls and goblins from the Banshee’s horde. The place where Reaper ultimately perished under the onslaught. Any remaining pursuers had chased after Jack. But he had no idea where the immortal had gone. Fire built within his chest. A new pain. Electric. There was only so much pain could do following the last few torturous hours.

When faced with never ending agony, Reaper knew better than to struggle. There was no hope of this metaphysical pain changing. He started walking. Another forced march. There was no choice. Back to the same ceaseless despair. The free spirit disappeared to his memories the longer they were apart. Nothing ever remained within his consciousness for long. Deep within those fading memories Gabriel wished for the immortal to remain unbound. 

Jack would not have remained on this path. Not knowing where the stark white creature went was to his advantage. At least until the Witch lost her patience. Then painful purgatory everlasting. 

“Witch!” The gravely voice called from their right. The immortal returned. But how? Along with the rifle Jack carried several satchels. How fast was this being? “I’m right here.” Rockets flew. Reaper flung himself in front of the Witch. He took the full force to his chest. He staggered but in defense of the Witch with her power backing him, Reaper remained standing. “Bastard. Fine. Have it your way.” Jack growled and fired another round. He had no choice but shudder as it scorched his chest. He was too close to the Witch. 

Dematerializing Reaper surged forward, shotguns ethereal shadows until the moment to strike. Jack trained his rifle on the wraith’s form. A formidable foe. He had known that from the start. Every shot into that blood red jacket healed. Or Jack dodged with his impressive speed. The immortal focused his fire on the Reaper and he took the punishment. His curse was to protect the Witch. No matter how much suffering he encountered. 

A blast from the rifle knocked Gabriel to the ground. Jack was suddenly on top of him, knees pinning Gabriel’s arms to the mud. The red eyes glowed menacingly from the bone white corpse. “You know, I never did like that pumpkin.” It’s the only warning cursed soul got before the butt of Jack’s rifle slammed into the Pumpkin Helm, smashing it to broken, forlorn pieces. Jack stood and approached the Witch, leaving the broken Reaper at their feet. Jack shot at the Witch only to have a headless Reaper reform in front of the Witch, taking the full brunt of the blow. “You idiot! When will you learn to stay out of the way!”

The Witch let out a relieved chuckle even as Gabriel thudded to the ground. “That is the price he pays. He may never rest as death will never take him. He must obey my commands. And without fail he will protect me from any harm. That is the bargain we reached and the curse he must bear. You will never end his torment. So you might as well stop trying.”

Instead of responding to her, Jack shouldered his rifle and removed the satchel from his shoulder. “Gabriel. Stop wallowing in self loathing and get up. I don’t know what you did to end up like this, but I doubt it was your choice. Here.” Jack tossed the satchel at Reaper’s body. A skull rolled out. The Witch took a step back uncertain. “That might change your viewpoint.” Jack took aim at the Witch again and advanced on her. Gabriel was sluggish but took up the skull and jawbone. His ghostly head formed and stared wide eyed and fearful with recognition. 

It was Gabriel’s own skull. With the Witch preoccupied with Jack’s steady threatening advance, Gabriel placed the skull within the ghostly head. The magic animating him immediately accepted it. Recognizing it as belonging to the body. He felt complete. More so than he could last remember. The Witch was trying to protest the zombie’s advance and encourage Gabriel to get up and fight for her. It was his end of the deal after all. Jack ripped the spell book from the Witch’s belt and Gabe was there, gripping Jack’s wrist, trying to protect the spell book.

Jack glowered at Gabriel. “You don’t know what’s in there.”

“I… The curse…” Gabriel wanted to release the arm but his will was not as great as the magic. “Jack.” Gabriel pleaded for the immortal to stop him. The return of his skull started to show the world beyond the limits of his curse. Reaper might not be able to act on his own, but he could see the wrongness of his actions. Jack growled and pressed the rifle into Gabriel’s already tattered chest and fired. In the brief moment of disbelief from the Witch, Jack pried open the spell book and exposed a golden glowing beating heart. The next moment an orb of fire exploded through Jack’s chest, cutting a huge hole in the immortal. Jack’s sunken eyes widen in shock. Then the animated corpse crumpled. From where he lay on the forest floor, Gabriel’s howls of denial swallowed the darkness. The Witch breathed a sigh of relief. But when she moved to pick up the spell book with the beating heart hovering above the pages, it flared in righteous anger and tried to burn her.

Gabriel felt the heart beating inside his empty chest. The same place where the Witch was always able to tug at him to obey her will. He struggled to reach Jack and the book. He knew that heart to be his. But he also knew the magic within that heart could save Jack. Or himself. Not both. When he touched the heart it too desperately attempted to join the body. Gabriel had to will it to stay apart from him. Where the Witch could not touch it, Gabriel guided the heart into the gaping hole in Jack’s chest with ease. He did not need to think about the choice. Jack had a reason to continue on. Gabriel resigned himself to the same hellish existence. The witch never allowed him to remain in limbo for long.

With Gabriel’s guiding, the heart healed Jack’s flesh and restored the strange immortal’s vigor. Gabriel watched the man touch the scar on his chest. Clear bewilderment upon the formerly emotionless visage. Gabriel was not afraid of oblivion. He had faced it countless times, dying in service to the Witch. This time he wondered if Jack would pull the trigger next time they met.

(.)

Jack stood over the rag doll puppet of the Witch of the Wilds. The woman in question stepped back with fear blazing in her eyes. The small pistol fueled by the immense power of an Ancient Immortal dangled in her loose grip. “What are you?” She stuttered. Then recognition shot through her gaze. “You… you shouldn’t exist. What did Moira create?”

“Beats me. I just want to return.” His eyes never left the skull cradled within the dark orange collar. The servant of the Witch, cursed to live as her attack dog and shield. A pathetic existence. No wonder Gabriel had chosen to follow him on the aimless hunt for the portal to the mortal realm. It had been more excitement and freedom than the ghost had seen since the day it died. Jack touched the massive scar across his chest. The one Gabriel’s heart had sealed. The first true choice the wretched soul had made in this horrid existence. “Where is the portal?”

“It comes and goes.” He couldn’t tell if the Witch hedged her answer or if it was the truth. It really didn’t matter. He would find it.

“When will it appear again.”

“He will know.” The Witch waved a delicate gloved hand towards the downed Reaper. 

Jack finally looked towards the blonde witch. “You’re not taking him with you?”

The Witch shook her head, still retreating in slow steps. “He is no longer mine. The heart I used to control him is now in your chest.”

“What use is a pile of bones? Didn’t he rely on you to resurrect him?”

“His heart, the source of his life, beats within you. Surely you knew that when you stole it along with his skull. So long as you live, so to speak, you have the power to heal him from almost any destruction.”

“How?” Jack’s brow narrowed in confusion. The Witch vanished without answering. “HOW!” The shadows ate those words. A sudden second heartbeat shuttered against his ribs. He clutched at the scar. Another resounding thud where none previously existed. Jack immediately checked on the Reaper. The ghostly form flickered around the skull. Whatever magic the Witch was talking about was taking hold. Gabriel was returning to this undead half life. “Come on, Gabe. We need to go.” The Reaper rose immediately. The heartbeat quieted and those highly expressive ghostly eyes met his. Confusion reigned within the smoke spirit. “I’ll explain on the way.” Jack turned his back on the monster and started walking towards the marsh.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow blacksmiley at: http://blacksmiley-c.tumblr.com  
> Or artstation at: https://www.artstation.com/blacksmiley
> 
> Follow me on tumblr at slytherinladyknight  
> https://slytherinladyknight.tumblr.com


End file.
